


The Absence of Rationality in Courfeyrac`s Mind

by harrietrose



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Basically intensely described anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Maybe slightly fluffy in the end, Other, Panic Attacks, Please read with caution, Rather intense description?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrietrose/pseuds/harrietrose
Summary: Courfeyrac, the cheerful, merry man who seemed to be unable not to smile, experiences a panic attack.





	1. Panic at 1 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is my very first Les Mis fanfic, so I would absolutely love constructive criticism! The fic mostly consists of me trying to describe my panic attack, and I decided to give it to Courfeyrac.  
> I described both the attack and the anxiety in detail, so please read with caution if that kind of stuff is triggering to you! If you want me to add any warnings, please let me know!  
> Otherwise, enjoy!

Courfeyrac threw a nervous glance at the clock; 1 am and still no word from the others. He knew he had left the bar slightly earlier than the others due to his massive headache, but that was half an hour ago and why were his flatmates still not home? He checked his phone again, checked the clock yet again. No word from neither Combeferre nor Enjolras.  
The rational part of his mind - what was left of it – knew that he was being silly. The others had probably stayed for a last beer or five more minutes of conversation before heading home. Half an hour though; that was a lot for a ten minute walk. He firmly shook his head, as if trying to shake the stupid, so stupid thoughts out of his mind.  
Sometimes Courfeyrac felt as if he consisted of more worrying and anxiety than he consisted of himself. He knew that it was silly (probably), but on days like these, he wondered if it wasn’t true? His anxiety seemed to have risen exponentially (realistically, he knew that anxiety came in period of waves. There was currently nothing realistic left in his brain), and showed no signs of stopping. He could feel himself becoming a shell of the man he once was. However, his fear of his friends noticing this change, hindered him in telling them what was going, or showing any signs of it for that matter. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, mind, but how could he tell them about the monster that clawed its way up from Courfeyrac`s mind, the one that blocked every ounce of rationality? They knew about the diagnosis, but he was fairly certain that they didn’t know the extent of it.  
Still, sometimes he could feel Jehan`s soft gaze when he was being extraordinarily quiet ("which is why I have to keep talking"), or Enjolras` worried gaze, Enjolras who seemed oblivious to everything except their main cause (and this it seemed). Or Combeferre`s voice, suddenly coated in hot chocolate and clouds, as if anything might just break Courfeyrac. Sometimes even Marius, the most oblivious person he knew would nudge his arm, or raise an eyebrow to quiestion whether he was okay (or even alive).  
Soon enough, Courfeyrac`s brain was creating images of his flatmates in a car accident, their friends in a dark alley, all of them in any kind of accident. This time, he recognized that he was being stupid, but his brain just wouldn’t stop. He put down his phone – 1.16 – and noticed that his hands was trembling and freezing cold.  
Courfeyrac, having been trapped in the claws of anxiety for a long time could recognize the start of an anxiety attack. Somehow, this felt worse. Within half a minute, his entire body was trembling and he had no idea why. He jerked upright, bolting out of the couch. He started pacing, still trembling. "Square breathing, grounding, anything, please let it work" he pleaded. Within a minute, he was convinced that he was dying. He crumbled down onto the floor, barely leaning into the couch, tears now streaming down his face. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes closely, as if trying to block out the world.  
Just then, someone decided to enter the flat, making a cacophony as they did just so (Courfeyrac knew that they were only drunk on friendship and merriment, but for goodness` sake, couldn`t they leave him be?). By the time the person clad in golden curls and voice coated in panick (was it panick? He knew this person, this person who was the definition of stoicism and calm, could hardly appear panicked?) had reached him, every sound seemed like an orchestra of disharmony. He could almost recognize a friendly voice, but every time he thought he did the voice slipped away into something dark and unintelligible.  
Suddenly, there were two pairs of hands on his back. He could hear them talking, until he suddenly was left alone with only one pair of hands determinately gripping his. “Courfeyrac, can you hear me?” Courfeyrac shuddered at the first words he had heard in – what was the time? He tried nodding to let the speaker know that he had been heard. «Good. Can you try opening your eyes for me? I am right here, you are safe.» Courfeyrac almost let out a whimper at the thought of letting the world in on this, but complied anyway. He opened a pair of blurry eyes to a most welcome sight. He only wished the circumstances had been better. “Good, Fey, now try breathing a bit slower, alright?”  
By the time his friend – thank goodness that Combeferre was here, because Enjolras had definitely run away at the mere sight of him, anyone would, thank goodness for Combeferre and his medical experience and his very being and – had managed to slow his breathing, Courfeyrac was still blurry eyed and short of breath, but not as panicked. “Hey, are you feeling better?” The question had Courfeyrac melt into his friends arms, his body heaving with sobs. He could just make out another being – Enjolras – handing him a mug of something hot along a crapload of tissues.  
After an eternity of heartwrenching sobs ("What on earth had managed to create such desperation in the man`s body?" Enjolras wondered), a lot of forehead kisses, hugs, and several mugs of hot chocolate, Enjolras was the one to adress the elephant in the room. “What happened, Courf? You seemed alright – everything seemed okay?” Said person let out a sniffle at this and inhaled sharply. There was a pregnant pause. Finally, a the rational part of Courfeyrac`s brain seemed to have taken over.  
“Anxiety. It is difficult to understand if you haven’t had it or experienced it yourself. But anytime someone is late, or doesn’t state that they`re home and safe, I freak out. The realistic part of my brain – although small”; everyone let out a huff of laughter, because anyone wearing green leather tights with neon orange sweaters couldn’t possibly have space for a rational part as well – “knows that they’ve forgotten to text, or are asleep, or were delayed by something minor. Anxiety is basically the murder of the rational part, and the act of replacing it with worry. Then panic ensues” Courfeyrac explained with a flick of his hand; as if dismissing the recent breakdown. “I know it`s so stupid and I hate it, and I`m sorry and-“. He wasn’t allowed to continue before he was tackled with hugs and smothered in kisses. “Never apologize for this. Ever. You can`t help this, but we know, and we are more than willing – heck, we would love to be there for you and with you” Enjolras breathed, his voice heavy with righteous anger , yet coated in a rare gentleness which only his most dear friends new existed.  
They sat like that for a long time; intertwined in each other, occasionally rising to put a kiss to let the receiver know that they were valuable and extremely loved. Eventually, Combeferre was the one to raise the question of sleep. “Although I would love to lie here forever, I believe a bed may be more suited for our backs?” The trio slowly disentangled. Courfeyrac could feel his head pounding at the headache`s return, and he was slightly dizzy when he rose. The thought of a dark room, a cold bed, the thought of being alone had him catch his breath. Before any of his friends uttered a word of concern, he asked aloud whether they all would mind sharing? “Just tonight?” Combeferre hugged him tightly and said “any time you need, darling, any time”, and Enjolras nodded slightly and hugged him too.  
In the end, Combeferre`s bed was the biggest, so that was where they crashed. Courfeyrac, although still upset from the prior events, was in a much calmer state, and he was overflowing with love for his friends. “Maybe this kind of love is the exponential growth, and not the anxiety?” he wondered, as he concentrated on the glow-in-the-dark stars which were plastered all over Combeferre`s walls and his friends` heavy breathing.


	2. The loss of logic and the discovery of coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac`s anxiety is getting increasingly overwhelming, and instead of facing it, he buries it under caffeine and stress. 
> 
> Or the one that turned out a l o t more angsty than originally planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I apologize for the late update - I meant to update this fic regularly and often, but school is getting overwhelming. I will try to post as often as possible, so stay tuned! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, comment, and leave kudos - I appreciate it so much!  
> Again, read with care, as I tend to describe the anxiety a lot, and it is the centre of the story!  
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> (Also, as a small "I`m sorry for giving Courfeyrac so much crap", I will try to write something fluffy soon; I`m so sorry for the amount of feels in this one :) )

Since his first panic attack, Courfeyrac hadn’t experienced any more. He wished he could say the same about his anxiety and anxiety attacks. He had come to the conclusion that his rational part of his brain was still somewhat there (although hidden beneath neon colours and bad decisions such as watching bootlegs till 6 am), and that though his anxiety felt as if it was rising exponentially, it came in waves. This week was lodged in a bad wave.

 

Between lack of sleep, a lot of stuff to do at school, and the amount of time he had to spend at the Friends of the ABC, Courfeyrac had hardly any time at all. He loved being busy, and he loved all of his stuff and friends, it wasn’t that. "I think it`s just that sometimes I walk out the door before I`m able to consider whether I want to go out the door, and whether today is a good day to pick that battle or not," Courfeyrac thought. He often had anxiety attacks when staying out, usually when people were breaking up and started small talking that made Courfeyrac want to hide in a bathroom and cry (first of which he usually did, second which he tried not to). 

 

He knew that the others had noticed him disappearing. He just couldn’t bring himself to face them and tell them, he just couldn’t. Instead of telling them, or trying to get more sleep or prioritizing, Courfeyrac had more than tripled his caffeine intake (it almost matched Enjolras` by now), gritted his teeth, and pushed through. "Ferre and Enj would scold me if they knew," Courfeyrac`s anxiety would whisper. "Another reason to avoid them then," Courfeyrac`s mind would reply and continue to shy from the subject.  
The morning after a particularly late night, Courfeyrac could be found in the kitchen pouring himself a large cup of coffee. He was completely lost in his own world. If his mind was a star, the amount of work he had to do was the planets; the tasks certainly seemed as large as planets.

“You sure you want to do that?” 

 

Courfeyrac turned around, recognizing Ferre`s voice. Something made him halt; the voice was literally coated with softness and care. For a second Courfeyrac seemed to stop, seemed to melt into the voice, as if he wanted to stay there forever. He suddenly snapped out of it, turned towards his cup of coffee again and shut the softness in the voice out. “Late night, couldn’t sleep,” Courfeyrac responded curtly. Courfeyrac was having one of those days where he did not want to face anyone, though he hadn’t realized it himself yet. Everything seemed so difficult; smiling, laughing, talking, being his bright, bubbly self, all of it seemed impossible. There was a pause.  
Combeferre and Courfeyrac had been the best of friends since the dawn of time. They could read each other like no one else could, and knew each other better than they knew themselves. Courfeyrac was there when Ferre had had a complete meltdown because of his grades and future, and Combeferre was there when Courfeyrac had his first anxiety attack. Despite this, Combeferre had never seen the other man like this before. 

Courfeyrac was the light of the group. Whenever he entered a room, his bright voice, his constant laughter, heck, even the glint in his eyes would be enough to catch anyone`s attention. He had seen Courfeyrac in tears, angry, sad, but never silent. Courfeyrac would always speak enough for two people, and everyone loved him for it. As Courfeyrac`s anxiety had developed, Combeferre had witnessed Courfeyrac becoming reduced; less loud, less… "less of himself," he had secretly thought. It was harder spotting Courfeyrac when he arrived, more difficult to hear him; it was becoming more rare for Courfeyrac to be the centre of attention. Combeferre knew Courfeyrac needed breaks from being "on" sometimes; a couple of minutes being silent or not talking, cuddles or bootlegs and warm cups of tea would usually do the trick. Between himself and Enjolras, they`d refer to it as Courfeyrac`s charging time. 

But this was different. Combeferre had hardly seen Courfeyrac all week, as he would either be out or lock himself in his room. When Combeferre did see him, he would have dark bags under his eyes, and he couldn’t remember the last time he`d seen Courfeyrac without a cup of coffee in hand (Courfeyrac never drank coffee unless he had to, didn’t he? He`d normally reduce it to a cup a day, usually less). Though Courfeyrac had become more quiet, this quietness was different. Before Combeferre had had time to blink, everything loud about Courfeyrac had been turned off, and there were no signs of Courfeyrac coming back to normal again. Last night he`d brought it up around dinner; Courfeyrac was nowhere to be seen, so it was just himself and Enjolras. 

 

“Have you noticed… Courfeyrac is getting worse, isn`t he?”

Enjolras seemed to have been caught unaware. His eyes widened slightly, before they focused on some distant object. 

“He is, isn’t he? A lot worse too, I think,” Enjolras had responded, a sadness creeping into his voice as his eyes finally found Combeferre`s. 

“He isn’t even remotely like himself.”

“What do we do?” 

At this, droplets formed in both men`s eyes. 

How could they help their friend? Though Combeferre had known him longer, Enjolras` friendship with Courfeyrac was equally deep. How do one help a drowning friend who`s so deeply focused on keeping their head above their water that they don’t notice the life boat just behind them? How do one extend a hand to a friend who`s looking the other way? 

Neither man had the answer. 

 

In the end, they concluded that Ferre should try to talk to him alone, so that he wouldn’t feel cornered. (Ferre was also slightly better with words when it concerned these things. "Though honestly, I don’t even know if my words will be enough," Combeferre worried. During the last couple of weeks, hugs, which used to be the perfect antidote, had made Courfeyrac tense against them, and he tended to stay alone – and seemed to prefer it. Words were the only tool they had yet to try.) 

“It`s only 8 am, you usually don’t drink coffee until lunch.”

Courfeyrac was still facing the opposite way, so Combeferre couldn’t tell how Courfeyrac was responding. 

“Fey”

At this Courfeyrac turned to face Combeferre again. 

Combeferre was going to ask him how he was doing, but the mere sight of the other man was enough to silence him. Combeferre took in his dark bags, the lack of light in Courfeyrac`s eyes, his slumped shoulders; every inch of the man seemed to scream “I have given up!” 

“Oh, honey,” Combeferre breathed, and this was enough to make Courfeyrac break down. His stature crumpled, his knees buckled, collapsing towards the floor, though he was quickly found by Combeferre`s steady arms. “Hey, hey, I`m here,” Combeferre whispered. 

Courfeyrac knew he had too much work to do to stay here and cry, but Combeferre had a way of reaching him like no one else could; his voice seemed to have reached into his very core and touched his heart, breaking the massive stone wall he had built around it during the last fortnight. “I don`t have time, I have so much to do today,” Courfeyrac stuttered between the sobs. “Give me your phone, I`ll text anyone who needs to know,” Combeferre replied, stroking his hair absentmindedly (though his mind was running, trying to pinpoint what exactly had made his friend break down this way). “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother?” Courfeyrac rambled between sobs and hiccoughs.  
Combeferre`s heart broke a little with each word. What on earth had happened? “Shush; now lets get you back to bed.” Courfeyrac seemingly wanted to protest, but he didn’t – the man must be completely exhausted. 

 

It was to this scenery that Enjolras emerged from the bathroom (“Though he is a marble statue, his timing is catastrophic,” Grantaire would announce at any given opportunity. There was a lot of opportunities). His hair was wrapped gracefully in a towel, which fell to the floor as he rushed towards the pair on the floor beside the kitchen counter. “Oh, Fey,” he muttered, taking over the mess from Combeferre. Courfeyrac sobbed a little more – he wasn’t too good with being noticed when he was feeling down, though he was eternally grateful. Combeferre mouthed a couple of words over Courfeyrac`s head (“Sleep. Now”), to which Enjolras nodded and complied. “Let`s get you into bed, hey?” Courfeyrac nodded slightly, while Enjolras got him up and into his beedrom. 

 

A couple of minutes later, Enjolras re-emerged from his bedrom, closing the door carefully behind him. “He`s asleep,” he whispered. “It didn’t take long,” he muttered. Combeferre looked up from Courfeyrac`s phone. He knew Courfeyrac hated cancelling appointments – hated talking to people in general, so when Combeferre had taken his phone, it was an unspoken, though seldom used agreement that Combeferre would cancel all of his appointments for the day.

“Breakfast?” Combeferre asked. 

“Only if you cook it,” Enjolras replied. 

 

This made both of them chuckle – Enjolras cooking skills – or lack thereof were famous (“Infamous, you mean,” Feuilly would mutter. He was the first to discover the horror which was Enjolras` eggs, a decision he regretted bitterly), and so Combeferre swapped Courfeyrac`s phone for an apron. 

 

When Courfeyrac emerged from the bedroom an hour later, the bags under his eyes were a little less prominent, and he seemed slightly more relaxed. No one acknowledged it, but there seemed to be something queer in the air – a mix between tension and awkwardness, which hadn’t happened since they first met, or since Combeferre had verbally roasted Marius.  
When most of the breakfast was devoured, and all of them had filled their cups with (decaffeinated) coffee, Courfeyrac started speaking. 

“I don’t even know if you really want to hear this, but I`m gonna try and start anyway,” he said in a breath. 

“I don’t know where I am. I loved being busy, meeting people, being everywhere, but then that changed, and that’s alright I guess. But lately, I`ve been doing so much and I don`t even have time to consider whether I want to go outside or not. But I feel like I can`t suddenly stop being in the ABC, because I am needed, and I can`t not do school. And then I`ve been ignoring you two, because I`ve been exhausted the entire time, and I am so sorry, but I just can`t.” 

By now, Courfeyrac was freely crying, shaking and sobbing. When they realized Courfeyrac had finished the rambling, they both embraced him. 

“Oh, honey,” Enjolras muttered. 

Combeferre inhaled, looking thoughtful before he started speaking. “You are allowed to take a break from people; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I know it feels like a mess – you tried doing a lot of stuff, because you know you can`t lock yourself inside forever, and now you feel even worse then when you started - but there is a difference between never going out and always being out, alright?” Courfeyrac nodded again. “And swap duty in the ABC – you need a break from having to do stuff, okay? It`s Easter break in two days, so take the last two days and the break off, okay?”

Courfeyrac nodded. He was still battling internally, but this made him slightly calmer. He knew that he`d been overworking himself, but he needed the next couple of days to actually accept it. He hugged his friends again, thanking everything that had decided to give the pair to him of all people. “Thank you,” he whispered. Neither responded, but Enjolras hugged him a little tighter, and Ferre ruffled his curls a little. That was all the reassurance he needed.


	3. Of Green Tea and Soft Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac takes the day of to relax, hangs out with some friends, and watches musicals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I finally updated, so sorry for the long wait!  
> I figured we were all in need of a soft chapter after the two previous ones, so here you go, bless y`all for actually sticking up with it.  
> Also, lots of kudos if you`ve seen / heard the Dear Evan Hansen musical / soundtrack, I love that musical so much. I sorta finished this in a hurry, so I apologize for any mistakes!  
> As always, enjoy!

When Courfeyrac woke the next morning, he realized it was Thursday with a jolt of panic. “School started three hours ago,” he thought along with a colourful string of (mild) curses. Then he realized that he`d decided to take a couple of days of and his heart returned to its usual beat. He checked the time again – 12 am and stretched. Enjolras and Combeferre would be out by now, Enjolras studying law and Combeferre studying medicine. The corners of his mouth turned up at the thought of them – he truly had been blessed with the best of friends, though he was inclined to disagree when they hated on his musicals. They all knew better than to mess with Courfeyrac on Musical Monday.  
Courfeyrac strolled into the kitchen and yawned again. He truly was exhausted, coming to think of it. He had no energy, save the little it took to make himself some breakfast and a mug of decaffeinated green tea. Courfeyrac took a sip of it and spluttered. “No wonder it has been here since 2013, this crap is awful,” he thought, but brought it along to the living room all the same. He found his current obsession – Dear Evan Hansen, though that could change at any given time – and pressed play for the umpteenth time. Everyone knew that the musical was one of his favourites. Not only did it impeccably portray mental illnesses, Ben Platt`s voice gave him life. He had forced near all the amis to watch it, “and they couldn’t object to that,” Courfeyrac thought with a smug smile.  
Courfeyrac managed the first hour of the musical, but he was fast asleep within “Break in a Glove”. When Enjolras opened the door, he was greeted by a snoring Courfeyrac, completely buried in blankets and pillows, only his head poking out. His coal lashes stood out against his dark skin, with a bit of drool running along his chin. Enjolras took note of how the bags under his eyes were a lot less prominent, and he seemed to have lost every ounce of stress he`d carried the past few weeks. He looked so young and innocent. His dark curls, for once not carefully styled, were scattered in every direction. It was utterly adorable, and it took all the willpower he had for Enjolras not to capture it in a photograph. Instead he closed the computer and removed the now empty tray of food.  
He remembered when he`d first met Courfeyrac. It had been the first day of school in fifth grade, and Courfeyrac had more or less dragged a nervous Combeferre behind him. Enjolras was new in town, and didn’t know anyone, though he`d stubbornly refused his parents offers to come with him to school. He was nearly beginning to regret the decision, when a dark skinned, freckled boy who seemed to carry his weight in excitement, dragging a boy with glasses and a nervous outlook appeared. “Hullo, nice to meet you. I`m Courfeyrac,” he`d introduced himself, equal parts of kindness and curiosity shining through his voice.  
It was one of Enjolras` fondest memories of the two. Though it had taken some time before Combeferre spoke up, the two had hit up immediately, not leaving Courfeyrac behind. The memory drew a soft smile from Enjolras as he glanced towards the couch his friend currently occupied. He treasured his friend dearly, and was only glad that he finally was able to relax. After doing the dishes, Enjolras decided against making dinner for the trio, and could practically hear the entirety of his friends thanking him. He snorted – he wanted to say that he didn’t know what his friends were talking about, but his cooking skills truly were atrocious. He made himself a cup of tea instead, and decided he would let Fey be for now. After all, he could use some sleep. He took another sip of tea – it truly tasted horrible – before emptying the cup and deciding to wake Courfeyrac. The other boy had slept an hour since he arrived, probably lots more before then (not to mention the fact that he was terribly bored).  
Just as Enjolras discovered that he was far too soft to wake Courfeyrac in this state, the door opened and Combeferre entered, Bossuet in tow, making a ruckus as he did so. Bossuet “The unlucky one”, bless his soul, had managed to trip over his own feet and landed face first into the floor. Courfeyrac sat upright with a bolt before realizing the recent happenings within two seconds. He managed to distinguish between the Ami`s footsteps, and though he knew Bossuet`s as well, he might as well not, as the poor fellow nearly always fell through the door instead of walking into a room. Combeferre aided Bossuet in getting up, Courfeyrac face planted into the pillows again, and Enjolras kindly turned his laughter into soft snorts. Courfeyrac turned around to face his roommates again while (not so) subtly wiping away the drool from his chin.  
“Bossuet was just going to pick up his book,” Combeferre explained, eyes momentarily meeting Coufeyrac`s. Though it less than a second, Combeferre wanted to know whether Courfeyrac was up for seeing people, and Courfeyrac had confirmed that yes, it was alright. After all, if he couldn’t see Bossuet, who then? He loved the chap dearly, despite, or maybe because of his bad luck and good sense of humour. Combeferre went to fetch said book and Enjolras went to make Ferre a cup of tea, as Bossuet slumped down into the couch, alongside Courfeyrac. If Courfeyrac tensed as his roommates left the room, Bossuet didn’t seem to notice. He started talking about this girl he`d met – Chetta, or something the lines of that, and how Marius still hadn’t talked to the blonde on the other side of the Musain. Apparently Taire was being a “total jerk” for not getting her number and giving it to Marius already, since they worked together at the cafè. Soon enough Courfeyrac relaxed in the company of his friend, and did not even mind being alone. Bossuet was different – he was kind and easy going and he didn’t probe and push, which Courfeyrac thought was why Combeferre had brought him of all people. Just then, Combeferre arrived, interrupting his train of thoughts. “Here`s your book, so sorry it took so long, Enjolras had borrowed it and put it goodness knows where,” Combeferre explained. “No problem,” Bossuet replied laughingly.  
When Bossuet had left, managing not to fall down the stairs (“Thank goodness,” Ferre had muttered under his breath), Combeferre slumped down into the couch while Enjolras brought the cup of tea he`d been making for the last fifteen minutes. He could probably burn water if he tried. Or maybe from lack of trying. He handed Combeferre the tea and slumped down beside him on the other side of Courfeyrac. Combeferre let out The sigh – the special one for when he was utterly exhausted and needed a couple of minutes to recover (hence the tea, despite how gruesome it might be). “Long day?” Courfeyrac asked.  
“One would think that stupid people would want to shut up once in a while.”  
Courfeyrac let out a huff of laughter, and moved himself closer to Combeferre in order to give him a hug. “Maybe you should take the last day off?” he asked, jokingly. Combeferre closed his eyes and subtly rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing up the glasses as he did so. “I was joking, but it looks like you need it.” Even Enjolras` empathy was piqued now. Enjolras looked up to see Courfeyrac staring intensely at him, giving him the “Only you can persuade him, come on” – look. He sighed internally, knowing that if Ferre was forced to take a day of, so should he, and goodness knew they both needed it. “Seriously Ferre. You look like you need it,” he replied. Combeferre cracked half an eye open. “Only if you do it too. The bags under your eyes are only matched by Fey`s, and he`s been sleeping for the last twelve hours,” Combeferre replied. This earned him an eye roll from Enjolras and an indignant look from Courfeyrac.  
“Come on, Enjolras, we could go to that cute cafè downtown, the…?” Courfeyrac trailed off.  
“Musain,” Combeferre finished. Enjolras, though dubious was won over by Combeferre`s soft smile and Courfeyrac`s puppy eyes – seriously they were impossible to resist.  
“Very well, we`ll make it a day,” he concluded, earning a high five and thrilled smiles. “It could be worse,” he thought with a small laugh.


	4. Of soft mornings and breakfasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio spend a day off, consisting of breakfasts, netflix, and museums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo!  
> I am finally back with a new chapter! Enjoy!

The fact that Combeferre had decided to take the day off did not hinder him in getting up at 6 am. He had a well-oiled morning routine, which was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. He cracked open the window, gazing softly at the morning birds outside his room. Combeferre was known to be fond of everything, from moths to literature to music, and anything inbetween. To Courfeyrac`s horror, this included gazing at birds in the morning ("But Ferre, it`s to early to be excited by anything at that time" he would object anytime he tried dragging him along for a jog, or to watch the sunrise). 

At 6:20, he shuffled into the kitchen, as he did every day, quiet as to not wake his roommates. Enjolras was particularly in a bad mood in the morning, and even easy-going Courfeyrac was positively murderous. Mildly amused, he glanced at the empty takeaway boxes from yesterday, as Courf and he couldn’t be bothered to cook, and Enjolras was forbidden to. He shook his head, and tidied the kitchen before making himself a cup of tea, while he made a mental note to buy more of the green tea. He then waddled into the library (it wasn’t a proper library, he`d argue, more of a book collection, but his friends claimed that having wall to wall bookshelves in a room qualified as a library, so he happily conformed) with his cup of tea, and his current book – something about the evolution of moths. He usually read for half an hour before he had to go to the uni, but since he doubted the others would wake up anytime soon, he had at least an hour of indulgence. 

The thought of his roommates distracted him temporarily. He had somewhat predicted Courfeyrac`s mental breakdown, though he had of coursedone everything within his power to hinder it. He sometimes wondered whether he was doing enough or well enough in helping him. At the same time, there were times where Combeferre wanted nothing less than to drag his friend into society, pointing at his group of friends, just to say that we love you just the way you are, we don’t want to change a single thing about you, we need you here. Sometimes it was hard to find a balance between the two. Even so, it was Courfeyrac`s life, and honestly he handled it quite well despite the recent. It was rare for him to push, and break down to this degree, though he seemed a lot better already. Combeferre wondered; he was a naturally curious person. Were there anything he did particularly wrong or especially right? They had gone through the last couple of years trying and failing, and he thought they were doing fairly well. He hummed quietly at the thought of the last couple of days` events. Yes, they had been chaotic and difficult, but he really hoped and believed that it would turn out for the better now. 

He heard an “ahem”, and looked up to see Enjolras in the doorway. “You looked quite lost in thought,” he said.  
“I`m afraid I was,” Combeferre said, standing up and stretching. “What time is it?”  
Enjolras looked at his watch. “Quarter past eight. Want to help me make breakfast?”  
Combeferre let out a soft laugh; that usually meant Enjolras made the coffee and set the table, though he didn’t object. 

They walked softly into the kitchen, putting on their shared playlist – classical music –dramatic enough for Courfeyrac, intellectual enough for Combeferre, and enjoyable enough for Enjolras. Enjolras found the eggs and milk they needed for the pancakes, while Combeferre provided the salt and flour. After a couple of minutes, a floofy-haired Courfeyrac appeared, and sat himself at the kitchen island opposite the counter. “My breakfast senses were tingling,” he laughed, still in his hufflepuff pyjama. Combeferre passed the bowl onto Courf for mixing, yet another well-oiled system that had been perfected through years of being flatmates, before starting on the bacon. 

“Do we have any plans for the day?” Courfeyrac asked, while sticking his finger into the Nutella jar that had mystically appeared on the kitchen counter.  
Enjolras jokingly smacked his fingers away, laughing. “Not yet. Fancy anything?”  
“No idea. What about you?”  
“Ooh, we could go to the national museum down the street. It`s been ages since we went!” Combeferre exclaimed. Enjolras and Courfeyrac loudly agreed. 

When another couple of plans were dismissed or approved of, the pancakes were ready and the breakfast was started. As on every morning, they made a point to have breakfast together, where they discussed art, literature, philosophy, anything that breathed or grew or existed. Since the three of them were studying, they had a short amount of time spent with each other, despite living together; at least, since they had a ridiculous high standard of time they needed together, that was how they felt. Thus, joint meals were introduced, and everyone was a slightly happier. 

After breakfast was finished and cleared up and Courfeyrac had changed his outfit, they all strolled down the street to the museum. Combeferre declared once again how lucky they were to live such a short distance from the museum, while Enjolras and Courfeyrac exchange fond, knowing glances. It was near hilarious how easily excited both Combeferre and Courfeyrac were; Combeferre by the scientific, the meaningful and often hard-earned knowledge, the intricateness and detail of it all, and Courfeyrac for the softness and enjoyable of life, by the flowers blooming, the bees being out of danger of extinction, of everything pure and bright. Enjolras on the other hand was more of a passionate kind of person (not to say that the others weren`t). He fought for everything that stirred within him, continuing his rightful anger, or grief, or even happiness in others through his evocative speeches and statements and eloquent eulogies. 

Finally arriving at the museum, they strolled for hours, taking in the knowledge that had been preserved for hundreds or thousands of years. They admired art, the machines, the pieces of equipment, everything that had been gathered and stored for ages. Enjolras had even admired a bouquet of flowers standing on a windowsill, until Courfeyrac had whispered that no, they were not rare, and that yes, they were actually quite common and only meant as a decoration before erupting in laughter, causing Enjolras to blush.  
As they all knew, Courfeyrac wheezed with laughter at the statue section, comparing all of the Greek marble statues with Enjolras – “Oh look, this one matches your skin!” he`d exclaim, before erupting in laughter, leaning on a chuckling Combeferre for support. Enjolras rolled his eyes, muttering something about him being “very funny, absolutely hilarious,” though one could easily detect the fondness behind the words. 

At the art section, Combeferre would marvel at the talented artist, while Enjolras would spare him an affectionate smile or two. Courfeyrac, exclaiming “Tag yourself,” at various opportunities started a new trend, leaving all of them with stiches from laughing, which earned them a couple of rude glances, none of which they noted. “This is definitely Enjolras when giving a speech!” Combeferre cried, pointing at an angel, which earned him yet another eye roll from Enjolras, and another fit of laughter from Courfeyrac. “This is Courfeyrac in the mornings!” Enjolras yelled at the sight of a troll, to which Courfeyrac gave him the most offended look, while Combeferre tried (and failed) very hard to stifle his laughter. 

They wandered around alone for a short bit, but united after a short while, missing the others witty comments, or funfacts, or the others` presence. They had lunch at the museum, discussing the pieces of art and their significance. They wandered for another short while, before they decided to go home – the relaxing morning had taken a small yet worthwhile toll on the trio. At dinnertime they decided to leave, unwillingly and slow, as to absorb the last pieces of magnificence. They walk home was, despite the lack of the artifacts, bright and cheery; the day had lifted their spirits, and though they were exhausted, it was the good kind.

At home, they all removed their coats and shoes in pleasant silence. As of a silent, mutual agreement, Courfeyrac fixed the popcorn, Combeferre made the tea, and Enjolras chose the TV-show to watch the next, before they all slumped down on the sofa. After a while, Courfeyrac would hog a blanket or two, Enjolras would have eaten half the popcorn, to the others` amusement, and Combeferre would probably have fallen asleep on a shoulder. They knew each other so well, knowing all the others weakest points and strongest traits, and none of them would change anything. 

Three episodes later, when all of them had fallen asleep on top of each other, the show still running in the background, they would wake up for a few moments before falling back to sleep again, briefly appreciating the presence of a friend, a comrade, a brother.


End file.
